


Day 1 (An introduction)

by MarmeLady_Orange



Series: Shipped Anonymous [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV) (but only a little at the start), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe Crossover, Crack, I am not part of any fandom but Supernatural, It’s mostly for fun, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Sorry if my "characterization" is poor, Spoilers, The original character is from OUR universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarmeLady_Orange/pseuds/MarmeLady_Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz Patrickson is a psychotherapist. But not an ordinary one. She works for "Shipped Anonymous", a clinic specialized in helping people come to terms with the relationships – canon or not – they are associated with. Today, she’s intended on helping some our favorite men understand, and maybe accept, their same sex pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1 (An introduction)

**Author's Note:**

> When I started on this, I didn’t know where it was going. And quite frankly? I still don’t know.
> 
> I’m only really part of the Supernatural fandom, my only real ship being Destiel (and, okay, with a side of Cockles but it’s not mentioned here). I do like the idea of Moreid, but nothing more. 
> 
> I’ve seen Sherlock, the Avengers and Star Trek movies (and I’ve never watched Teen Wolf). But I don’t ship anything… Still, I took my cues from what I see on Tumblr and I’m not here to bash on anybody’s ship.
> 
> I don’t know yet if there’ll be more to it, but I’m making this a "series" so it’s always open.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please, let me know if you think I should go on, or what you think your pairings could be thinking of all this.

 

 

Liz Patrickson lightly taps on the round dial of her white Dior watch with a flawlessly manicured nail. Her clients are late. Not that it shouldn’t be expected, it’s pretty much always the case at introductory sessions. She should try to find a better summoning spell instead of having to work with everyone’s sleep schedule and all that wonky time and space nonsense. Now she just can’t wait for the seats around the room to start filling up with her guests so they can start working already.

~•~

When Dean opens his eyes, and he could swear to anyone that he had just closed them, he’s in a different place. Not only is he not lying in his bed like he was a second earlier, literally, but he’s instead sitting in some kind of big living room with a bunch of strangers. Before he can jump to his feet and start throwing punches, because that’s what he believes he should do, he feels a familiar hand on his shoulder. He turns to find Castiel sitting next to him, his hand weighing him down so he’ll stay seated.

“Mr. Winchester, welcome. Now that you are here, we can start,” he hears a woman’s voice tell him.

“Cas? What the hell?” he asks his friend, not bothering to pay any mind to the person who had addressed him.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think that we are in any danger.”

“Indeed. Mr. Winchester—”

“Who the fuck are you? And how do you know my name?” he spits, finally turning to glare at a supermodel type of a woman, her blond hair tight in a high bun.

“If you’ll let me explain—”

“The hell with that! Come on Cas, let’s go!”

Dean tries to get up from the love seat but finds that he can’t. He can move but it’s as if the will to leave has been drained from him.

“I tried to leave as well earlier. It appears we are somewhat bound to this place.”

“Look, no need to worry. I’ve been here before, you are not in any kind of danger,” says a dark skinned man sitting in the loveseat to their left.

“You were?” asks the man sitting with him, a tall and skinny dude with shaggy hair that’s a bit too long.

“Yeah, Garcia and I popped in here yesterday. Never thought for a second I’d be back here with you though.”

"And why should I care about anything you say?” asks Dean, suspicious.

“It’s all good, you don’t have to. Chill out, alright? We’re all friends here,” the man tells him again, raising a hand in a calming manner.

“Okay! If everyone could just settle down. Let me introduce myself and explain why you’re all here this morning, alright?” the blond woman starts, making sure her voice sounds assertive enough.

A general grumble answers back to her. Again, she isn’t surprised. Everytime she’s had an all-male session, she had to deal with macho attitudes and all around caveman grunts. And it would get even worse the second they would know the reason they had been summoned.

“Are you a demon? Some pagan god? A witch?” Castiel inquires, eyes squinted and head slightly tilted.

“I fucking hate witches,” Dean grumbles, eyeing the woman with apparent distaste.

“What are you two lunatics going on about? She’s obviously psychotic,” offers another skinny dude with a curly mop of hair in a British accent. His shorter friend is looking at them as if they had lost their marbles.

Well, Castiel should certainly know better by now than to talk about their line of work in front of strangers. And as he thinks it, Dean realises these two guys, the Brit and his mean looking friend, he has seen them before. Actually, he has watched them on TV, with Charlie. These guys are fucking actors.

Dean takes a quick look around the room and gasps at the sight of other actors. Those guys from _Star Trek_ , the new Kirk and Spock. Also the _Avengers_ , fucking Iron Man and Captain America. The other dudes, he doesn’t recognize, but that makes Dean wonder what the hell him and Cas are doing in a room with act— _“oh shit!”_

“Cas! I think we’re in that parallel universe again. The one where I’m that Jensen actor guy,” Dean whispers to his friend, in shock.

“What makes you say that?”

“Gentlemen, please, I’ll explain everything. My name is Liz Patrickson and no, I’m not a demon, pagan god or witch. Not really anyway. What I am is a therapist and I specialise in ships.”

“Why would a boat need therapy?” asks Castiel.

“No, that’s not—please, wait until I’m done for your questions, alright? So, as I was saying, I am a therapist and I help people involved in ships to come to terms with it. Most of my work I do with fictional characters such as yourselves, but I also work with real people. Once a month, I will also work with anime and cartoon characters.”

Even though some protesting huffs are heard at the mention of the people in the room being fictional, nobody says a thing about it.

“For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, a ship is a preferred romantic pairing between two people, would it be intended to happen or not. I do specialise in non-canon ships, which means that whatever show, movie or book you emanate from, the romance has yet to happen. Some colleagues of mine will concentrate their efforts on canon ships… not my cup of tea.”

“Speaking of tea, would you have any to offer?” the British guy says without a care in the world.

“Later… So, yes, even though it will come as a shock, every last one of you is a fictional character. In my reality, the one where I was able to bring you all, you are all featured in either movies or television shows. Some were even featured in novels or comic books before anything else. Some of you do cross over to each other’s universes but as fictional characters as well. Understand that in your own universes, you are as real as I am in mine. In here, well... you’re works of art.”

“Doc, if you don’t get to the good part, you’ll lose them. There are no girls here today,” the dark man provides with a chuckle.

“Indeed Mr. Morgan, I’ll get to the point. What I mean to say to you all is that you’re fictional characters and your fans are shipping you with each other. Which means they want Morgan and Reid to get together, just like Sherlock and John, Stiles and Derek, and so on.”

All twelve men in the room turn to the friend they have sitting with them on their love seat. Some are amused by the news, others look confused, while some seem downright annoyed.

“Why the hell does everyone think Sherlock and I are a couple? I’m bloody married,” growls John Watson, dumbfounded.

“That’s what we’ll try to figure out, I guess. But, please know that shipping is as much believing the couple is actually together as hoping they will be.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I’m married,” John huffs.

“I’m not here to force you to do anything. I only want to help. What I would like now is to go around the room and for each pair to introduce themselves and how you know each other. Why don’t we start with you?” she says, waving a hand to Sherlock and John.

“I don’t see how any of this is relevant in any way, but I’ll play. My name is Sherlock Holmes and I am a consulting detective with Scotland Yard. John Watson here is my assistant. He was also my flatmate, that’s how we met, but now he is married and obviously lives with his wife. Anything to add, Watson?”

“Most certainly not!”

“Very well then, thank you gentlemen. In case you don’t already know, Johnlock is your pairing name,” the therapist provides with a smile.

“I didn’t know, but I could have easily guessed,” quips Sherlock.

“No doubt… so, to Johnlock’s right we have?”

“Stiles. And that’s Derek. He’s a werewolf but I’m not,” Stiles grins. Derek slaps him on the back of the head. “Ow! But it’s true! I have a friend that was bitten and then came this guy so yeah, that’s it.”

“You can’t be friends with werewolves,” spits Dean from his seat, arms crossed.

“What about Garth?” Castiel replies.

“That’s different!”

“What’s your problem, man?” barks Derek.

“You! You and the things like you that I hunt and kill on a daily basis,” Dean snarls back, his hand shooting to his back to grab the non existing gun that’s most certainly under his pillow at home.

“I think you should take in consideration that neither of you, as previously explained, share the same reality. So there’s no need to go and kill each other now, is there? But I do have a question for you, Stiles. How old are you?” interjects the skinny man with the shaggy hair.

“Old enough... Why do you care?”

“I think what Pretty Boy here is saying is that you look awfully young to be participating in such a session. Am I right?”

“Exactly. I don’t think you should be here if you are a minor.”

“I’m of age!”

“No, he’s not,” counters the werewolf.

“I’ll be soon enough. In a couple of months. Who cares?”

Derek growls and leans to Stiles’s ear to speak to him. It doesn’t take long for the younger man’s features to stiffen and he sighs.

“Fine,” Stiles mutters, his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s true I am underaged and I wouldn’t want to be influenced by all the gay in this room can I be excused please.”

“But—” Liz starts, seeing parts of her plan crumble.

“Never did I imply that you shouldn’t be exposed to other people’s sexual preferences, Stiles. All I meant to achieve was to point out that it would be illegal to detain a minor without parental consent. Because I am fairly certain your parents were not consulted now, were they?” the skinny man continues, facing the therapist.

“Well… I—no, but—”

“Why don’t you let the boy and his friend go? Call him back when he’s eighteen if they’re still a thing, maybe?” Morgan offers with a bright smile.

“Alright… but it’s not like anyone will think that any of you went missing. Time has stopped and will resume when you get back.”

“I know that… but frankly, I’ve been here before and I’m not sure everyone would be comfortable enough to talk freely with kids around.”

“Screw you very much, gramps! We’re not kids, if you knew the things—” Stiles starts to reply before being cut off by him and his friend disappearing back to wherever they came from.

“Please let’s continue the introductions,” breathes Liz, pressing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index.

“My name is Derek Morgan and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We work together at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, or BAU. Unlike our co worker Garcia, who I was here with yesterday, Reid and I work together on the field. So we do spend a lot of time together. We’re pretty great friends too, I think.”

“I’m glad you think so, and I do agree. Do we have a ship name as well?”

“It’s probably Spenrek,” offers Sherlock with a smirk.

“It’s actually Moreid, but nice try Mr. Holmes,” responds Liz flatly. “Next?”

“My name is Castiel, I am an Angel of the Lord… well, I was when I met Dean anyways. I gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. Since then, I fell and am as human as he is but we became friends... I think.”

“Of course! You’re family, Cas.”

“An angel? First, a werewolf and now an angel? Are you all on drugs?” John Watson groans, sending dark stares to every single person in the room.

“I think we’re the ones experiencing a drug-induced fantasy, Watson. Maybe Moriarty got to us somehow.”

“He’s dead, Sherlock.”

“I was dead too—” starts to explain the detective.

“No you weren’t,” snorts Dean.

“Are you really so daft? Of course I wasn’t, it was a setup.”

“Well, I was dead for real, and Cas here brought me back from Hell so… that’s how we know each other.”

“We’re friends with demi gods so, the angel thing, we’re on board with that,” offers Tony Stark, speaking up for the first time since their arrival.

“Wouldn’t say Loki’s your friend, dude,” replies Dean, all smiles. “Yeah, I’ve seen the movies,” he adds with a nod when Tony raises a single eyebrow.

“Movies? Were they any good?” the millionaire smirks.

“Dude, you have no idea,” beams Dean in full fanboy mode.

“You should know that your Loki has nothing to do with ours. My brother wasn’t so bad,” Castiel feels the need to provide.

“You’re Loki’s brother? You don’t look anything like Thor… I thought you said you were an angel,” laughs Tony.

“I was. And Loki is in fact the archangel Gabriel in hiding. He might have been a Trickster, but he wasn’t a murderer.”

“Really?” coughs Dean.

“Well… fine, he was a bit of a murderer… but more like, a justiciary. He did step up to Lucifer.”

“Enough, gentlemen… So Dean and Castiel are known as Destiel… and it’s not that the storytelling isn’t interesting but I would love for us to finish with the introductions. Like, today, please! You two, you’re next,” Liz says, exhaling loudly and pointing to the duo right in front of her.

“My name is James T. Kirk, captain of the starship USS Enterprise. This here is my friend and first officer, Mr. Spock. We work together.”

“You saved my life,” Spock offers in an even enough tone.

“Yeah, that too…”

“That’s so fucking awesome,” Dean can’t help himself to exclaim.

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel demands, worried by the look on the hunter’s face.

“Cas, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so not the right person to be sharing this moment with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Charlie would be shitting bricks,” Dean blurts, the widest of grins on his face.

“That is not even possible,” Castiel replies, brows knitted in concern.

“Next,” strongly suggests Liz.

“Hey, wait up! What’s our ship—”

“Spirk,” Dean interjects, all smiles. “My friend ships you guys like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Alright, next,” Liz states again, growing more and more impatient.

“I am Tony Stark, head of Stark Enterprises, inventor, genius, the man in the machine, billionaire extraordinaire. I am Iron Man. This here is my friend Steve Rogers, one of daddy’s pet projects we call Captain America. He likes to walk around wearing the star spangled banner.”

“I am certainly not a pet, Stark! And at least, I wear clothes, not a robot.”

“And your ship name is—”

“Roark,” tries Sherlock.

“Wrong again, Mr. Holmes. They are known as Stony.”

“Well, that is a preposterous name. Stony sounds... so common. Roark at least has some bite to it. I will refer to them as Roark from now on,” Sherlock announces, silently hoping for a debate, which never comes.

Liz sighs and looks at her watch, not even trying to be discreet about it. Barely an hour has passed and they are scheduled for a full day. Maybe it would do some good to just give out some refreshments and let them mingle for a little while. They’ll start with the therapy for real afterwards.

“Gentlemen, thank you so very much. Now that we are all acquainted, I will go fetch the cart with various hot and cold beverages and snacks. In the meantime, I encourage you to talk amongst yourselves, make small talk, learn to know a bit about each other, share experiences, whatever floats your boat.”

“You funny there, doc… float our boats,” sniggers Tony.

“Must be part of her act, she said the very same thing yesterday,” Derek adds with a smirk.

“I think we should start with you then. Tell us what happened yesterday,” Dean snaps.

“Mr. Morgan, choose carefully what you decide to share,” says Liz before the FBI agent can even start to answer. She gets up and walks towards the door, leaving the men to their own volitions. Well, as much as it’s possible to be when they can’t even leave the loveseats they are sitting on.

“So, Derek… you feel like explaining to us what happens here?” presses Spencer, crossing his slender legs towards his friend.

“Honestly, guys, it’s not so bad. She’s right when she says that we’re not here to see anything forced upon us. Anyway, Garcia and I weren’t forced to do anything yesterday. Even if we wouldn’t have wished to talk, it would have been ok.”

“And that Garcia fellow, he’s one of your other co workers?” asks John, mildly interested.

“Of course not, Watson. Garcia is a woman. Didn’t you listen to anything that has been said? He said there we no girls here _today_ ,” berates Sherlock.

“Yeah, Garcia is Penelope, my best friend, my Baby girl, you know?”

“You seem pretty intimate with her, is she your girlfriend?” John says again, asking questions because, frankly, he has nothing better to do.

“No, but we kinda are somewhat intimate. Like I said, she’s my best friend. And I do that, I give nicknames to the people I love.”

“Like you called your friend here Pretty Boy earlier,” John surmises

“True… I call him Kid too sometimes. Very close friends as well. Don’t you guys have nicknames for each other?”

Every men look at their friend with a concentrated look. It takes about a minute before everyone shakes their head. No, they don’t have nicknames for each other.

“Well, Dean kind of does have one for me,” Castiel suddenly remembers.

“No I don’t.”

“Of course Dean… you call me Cas. And you called me Huggy Bear once.”

“No, that’s not the same. Well, yeah, Cas is a nickname, but it’s still your name. The Huggy Bear thing was sarcasm… But it’s not like I call you honey or sweet pea, you know?”

“Why would you call me that? I am neither of those things.”

“Exactly…”

“Although I don’t understand why he calls his friend Kid. Pretty Boy, I understand, he is indeed pretty, but he is clearly a grown man, not a kid.”

“Cas, it’s a term of endearment. Like how I call my car Baby… like Sam and I call each other Bitch and Jerk. It’s just…”

“Like Crowley calls Sam Moose?”

“Well, that’s not so much endearing, but yeah. Kind of, I guess.”

“You guys wanna know the rest or…?” Derek tries, getting impatient.

“Go ahead,” Tony tells Derek with a nod.

“So, I was here yesterday with Garcia and a bunch of other Fictional Het Pairings like the Doc called us. It was a bunch of guy-girl couples, all from tv and movies just like today. Nobody I knew, because I don’t really have time to watch much tv anyway. It was a whole day affair, we talked about our relationships, how we feel about each other, if we ever thought about each other in a romantic or sexual way and everything.”

“You and Garcia must have had a lot of fun,” Spencer says, slightly amused.

“We played her like a fiddle. At first. But after lunch, it became a little more real. At some point it made us really think about it, wonder if there really was more than we ever let ourselves see, you know?”

Everyone was pretty wrapped up in Derek Morgan’s little replaying of the day before and there were many gulps and hitched breaths. There was a chance that even if they didn’t take any of this seriously, there might come a moment when certain questions would need to be answered.

“And what conclusion did you come to?” asks Spencer.

“None. It raised questions, but I don’t think we have answers. Not yet anyway. On the other hand, I think that if we truly wanted to be with each other, there wouldn’t be any reason to hesitate. So that’s pretty much where we are. We’re scheduled for a private session with the doc next month.”

“You’ll come back here on purpose?” Tony asks, surprised.

“Why not? If there’s a problem, better solve it.”

“As far as I am concerned, the only problem we have right now is being held here against our will,” Spock advocates.

“If at the end of the day you find there’s nothing to think about in your relationships, then that’s it, you’re done. But most of us yesterday realised there was a level of uncertainty. Some admitted having feelings for the other, some still need to think about it. But we’re here because people see something in our interactions.”

“I have to wonder what they see because, Steve and I, we don’t spend so much time together. And I do have a girlfriend,” wonders Tony.

“And what a gal she is,” Dean comments, all smiles.

“You know it’s weird how you seem to know everything about my life when I strictly know nothing about you, right?”

“Maybe our universe is more real than yours.” Dean smiles, ecstatic to be bantering with Tony fucking Stark.

“Or maybe your show sucks,”

“Well… you, you suck,” Dean sputters, taken aback.

“No… I really don’t,” quips Tony with a wide grin.

“Seriously guys, I don’t think this is helping in any way. But, I do have a question Derek. If we are fictional, then that would mean that someone somewhere is deciding our fates, what we say, how we interact. So if there’s any underlying feeling between two characters, it’s probably not something they can decide upon. Like what you want to do with Garcia. Even if you think about it for months, it wouldn’t change the fact that ultimately the writer will make the decision for you, right?” Spencer asks his friend.

“I’d have to agree with you there. If any of this made any sort of sense, of course,” answers the agent.

"See, if we are fictional—which is impossible but let’s say it is for argument sake—would it mean that everything we’re doing right now is already written? That the outcome is already fixed? That we ultimately have no choices or original thoughts?. Sherlock adds, glad to have found what seems to be another great mind to converse with.

“Like another prophet?” Dean asks Castiel, who just shrugs.

“See Sherlock, you say it’s impossible that we’re fictional but, I have to say, this guy seems to know a lot about some of us,” Tony says, pointing at Dean. “Even about the guys in the starship and the pointy ears. And you know what? Where I’m from, Sherlock Holmes _is_ a character in a book, along with his trusty sidekick Dr Watson.”

“Impossible,” refutes Sherlock Holmes.

“He’s right,” confirms Dean. “The book is actually set in the early 1900s I think but, I have an even funnier fact for you guys. Ready? You see Tony Stark there? Well, the actor who plays him, in my reality anyways, also played Sherlock in the movies.”

“No shit,” guffaws Tony.

“See Watson? I told you, we’ve been drugged. This buffon could never be playing me.”

“Do you know this buffon is a very intelligent and courageous man? I think he deserves some respect, he did save the Earth,” Steve feels the need to interject, eyeing the detective darkly.

“Well, thanks Cap, didn’t know you felt that way... but I’m in a serious relationship with miss Potts you know.”

“Of course I know. I was only—”

“Kidding Rogers, lighten up would you?”

“I have a question for everyone, if you don’t mind,” Kirk suddenly says, his gaze travelling around the room. “Who here knows about anyone else in the room?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“Like Dean here who seems to know most of us from movies and television. Who else knows anyone in the same way? I myself can say that I only know of Sherlock Holmes’s books but I haven’t read them. How about you, Spock?”

“I have no knowledge about anyone in this room.”

“Good. Tony?”

“Like I said, I know about Sherlock Holmes. And I know the original Kirk and Spock. But nobody else rings the slightest of bells.”

“I’ve read all the Sherlock Holmes books, but I don’t know anyone else,” adds Steven.

“Guys, I have the proof that you’re not real,” yelps Dean suddenly. Would he have been able to, he would have stood up to emphasize upon his realisation. “Kirk, Spock... look at Sherlock.”

Both men obey, even though they had already seen the man. They look back at Dean, clearly not comprehending what’s required of them.

“No, I mean, really look at him. Doesn’t he remind you of someone?”

Now everyone has turned to look at Sherlock, trying to see whatever it is that Kirk and Spock are supposed to see. Then it’s like a lightning bolt in Spock’s mind.

“Khan?” he breathes.

“Who?” Sherlock asks, confused.

“That _is_ Khan!” Kirk confirms.

“How did we not see this?”

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” Derek asks.

“Let me,” says Dean, quite proud of himself. “So, Sherlock here, or the actor that plays him, also played in these guys’ second movie. He was the bad guy. He just looks a little different, which is why they didn’t recognize him at first.”

“You’re making this all up,” says Watson.

“I didn’t tell them what to say, they recognized him. And you... if you knew who else you are these days,” Dean laughs.

“Not interested.”

“Fine. While we’re here, I’ll tell you about you guys in our universe. So yeah, Kirk and Spock there, they got movies. They’re second generation, the first one started on tv. It was awesome. Sherlock and Holmes here, books, tv series, movies, name it, it’s been done. Hum, Iron Man and Captain America, they started as comics. There were cartoons, then movies, like separate ones, then the Avengers with Hulk and Thor and stuff. You two though, I’ve never seen,” he finishes, eyeing Reid and Morgan.

“I think we can say the same about you and, even though I haven’t seen all the stuff you just mentioned, I’ve heard of most of them. Seems our universes are culturally equal. Same for you Reid?”

“I’ve read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and for the rest, I’m like you. Some I’ve heard of—”

“I trust that you guys have been getting to know each other?” the therapist interrupts him when she comes back into the room, pushing a cart with foods and beverages. “There’s both tea and coffee, juice and milk. There are also muffins, croissants and fruits,” she adds, stopping the cart in front of the first pair.

When everyone’s set with their drinks and snacks, Liz rolls the cart out of the way and pours herself a coffee before going back to her seat.

“So… do you guys have any questions for me?” the therapist asks, expecting the men to all start talking at the same time. Instead, a single hand raises.

“Yes, Dean?”

“When you say people ship us, what do you mean? Who does? Is it only you fantasizing or is it some kind of shared hallucination?”

“Of all people, you should know what this is all about, Dean… Remember what your brother found on the Internet about you two? It’s the same thing…”

“What? You and your brother are—” starts Tony with a smirk.

“Ew, dude, no! Some girls like to think that we do, though. You should know, I’ve seen things like that about Thor and Loki…”

“Well… they’re not blood brothers, so…”

“Shut up,” Dean spits, the top of his ears suddenly red.

“What is happening with you and Sam?” Castiel asked, not picking up on his friend’s embarrassment.

“Nothing, Cas… I told you this already, what that Becky chick would write about Sam and I. Nothing’s happening,” he insists, glaring at the other men.

“Dean is right, let’s not talk about this. There’ll be plenty of time for that when my colleague calls on you.”

“What?”

“Roger takes care of those… special ships… siblings and other delicate situations. I’m surprised he hasn’t already,” Liz explains with a smile. “Now, to answer your question… it’s not only me. I’m actually not a shipper myself. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. I observe, feel the pulse of the fandoms on the Internet, and when I learn of a ship, I study it.”

“Who pays you?” Tony asks.

“Nobody… per say… Let’s just say that my second career as an author brings in enough money. I’m only here to help.”

“And for inspiration I bet…” huffs Sherlock.

“I will admit that my imagination has been stimulated by some of my client’s stories, yes.”

“So you write gay porn?” Dean surmised, thinking back to the things he had seen about him and his own brother.

“Please! I am a serious author…” Liz hisses, a sudden pink hue adorning her face.

“I don’t think the good doctor here is telling us the truth,” Derek says, elbowing Spencer in the ribs.

“I have to agree with you. I would think that she knows already that there should be no shame in pornography. Unless the consumption of this form of art is excessive, of course. And I’m talking about consenting adult’s pornography, not deviances.”

“Dean loves pornography,” Castiel feels the need to emphasize, looking at his friend with a small smile.

“Dude, shut up, would you? But yeah… I do… Porn’s awesome.”

“You guys watch porn together?” Derek asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“He says we can’t talk about it…” Castiel replies, thinking about that time with the pizza man.

“Hey! Ho! It’s not like that guys, it’s just—”

“So, are we done with the topic of pornography? Can we move things along?” Liz asks, effectively cutting Dean off.

“What I mean is—” he tries to explain.

“Very well then. Any other questions?” she cuts Dean again, pointedly looking at him so he’d let it go.

When nobody seems to have anything else to say, she takes her notebook and clicks the top of her pen a couple of times.

“Okay… So, how many of you has ever had sexy thoughts about their friend here?”

 

 

_To be continued… maybe???_

 

**Author's Note:**

> So many copyrighted stuff… I don’t own any of it… Otherwise I’d be filthy rich!!!
> 
> Oh… not beta’d either 'cause I’m a free spirit and I type my stories barefoot in the middle of a field with flowers in my hair. (no, I really don’t… I just sounds pretty)


End file.
